The Old Dog
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: Grissom’s past comes full circle, becoming entwined with someone near and dear to his heart. Slight GSR.


Title: The Old Dog

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before and including Compulsion.

Summary: Grissom's past comes full circle, becoming entwined with someone near and dear to his heart.

Status: Finished

* * *

**Northern Ireland, 2 AM**

Jimmy O'Rourke, just another soldier fighting the good fight. Well, not exactly a soldier. More of a freedom fighter, truth be told. After all, the Provisional I.R.A. fought the soldiers. And, all Jimmy wanted at the moment, other than a better Ireland, was to get off the road. Sure, paranoia played a large part of being a member of the P.I.R.A., but the fact that there was another car on the road at this time of night behind them made it impossible not to be paranoid.

"Is this the right road?"

"Cos it is, Jimmy. D'ye think I don't know where I'm goin'?" If Jimmy had anything going for him at that moment, it was the fact that Dessie McGeehan was in the car with him and behind the wheel since he was the better driver of the two. Dessie'd gotten them out of more than one jam in the two years they've known one another. So much so, Jimmy had begun to think of Dessie as his own personal good luck charm. As long as Dessie was here, nothing bad would happen to him.

"Who's that, then? Been behind us far too long for me."

"It's nobody. You're just bein' paranoid, like you usually are."

Jimmy inhaled deeply, his teeth gritted as he spoke, looking in the rearview mirror. "When ye've been at this as long as I have, you get paranoid. Jus' let them get well ahead've us, right?"

Dessie nodded, easing up on the pedal. And, sure enough, the other car drove by them with nary a second thought. Chuckling softly, Dessie spoke. "Happy now? Off they go, away round the bend."

Jimmy reached for a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing the malformed stick between his lips. "They're in a right oul' hurry, whoever they are."

"It's two in the mornin', Jimmy. Be trynna to get home to their beds."

Jimmy was about to reach for the cigarette lighter in the dash, but upon turning the corner, Jimmy braced himself as the car that initially passed them now sat in the middle of the road, waiting for them. "Jesus! I knew it!"

"Houl on." Before Jimmy realized what was happening, Dessie had turned away from the vehicle, instead swerving into the side of it instead. Once Jimmy recovered from the sudden impact of metal on metal, his instincts kicked in as he quickly reached for the glove box.

"I bloody well knew it! Where's them bloody guns?"

Jimmy might have seen the car ahead of time, but not what came next. "Leave them, Jimmy." Upon turning his attention toward Dessie, Jimmy was greeted with the sight of Dessie pointing the barrel of a .44 magnum directly toward him. "Brought my own."

"Chrissakes, Dessie!" Then, as though an afterthought, the realization hit him. "What happened to your accent?" Jimmy didn't hear what Dessie had to say, what with his door opening, a foreign hand pulling him forcefully out of the car and tossing him into the dirt. "Ye bastards! No!"

Jimmy could feel the hand pulling on the hair on the back of his head, forcing him to his knees, Dessie speaking all the while. "Calm down, Jimmy. Won't do you any good right now."

"But, for Jesus' sake. You can't…tell us it's a joke, Dessie! I've known you for two bloody years!"

Counting the man behind him holding his head steady and the two that now exited the parked car, Jimmy could hope this was either a very cruel joke or a very bad dream. Unfortunately for Jimmy, it turned out to be neither. "And let me just say, for the record, what a mind-numbingly two years they were. Life in the Provo's about as interesting as watching mold grow. If I ever go undercover again, it's going to be somewhere more hospitable. Warmer perhaps."

At that moment, Jimmy knew exactly whom he was dealing with, even though he still held out hope that this was all an elaborate joke. "Oh, my dear Jesus. Yous are S.A.S."

One of Dessie's friends, if that was even his real name, spoke, his voice filled with sarcasm. "Catches on quick, yeah?"

To which Dessie replied, "You ought to see him play charades." Jimmy could feel the hand release his hair, his head lolling slightly at the lack of tension in his neck. Quickly stiffening his neck, Jimmy looked up to see Dessie pointing the .44 once more at him. "Anyway."

"No! Wait a minute! What about the ceasefire?"

Dessie's voice was calm, collected, as he answered his former friend. "Got the feeling you didn't really mean it."

"But…but we were…we had to keep up the pressure! They wouldn't listen to us! They wouldn't…"

"I don't do politics, Jimmy."

Jimmy knew what was coming, so he did the only thing he could at a moment like this. He voiced his dissatisfaction with his current predicament. "You dirty Brit bastards! Murdering hooers! Yous packa bloody animals, I hope yous burn in hell!"

Unfortunately for Jimmy, Dessie wasn't in the mood to play along. "Got a bit've a head start on us there, Jimmy. You'll have to send us a postcard. In the meantime…" Jimmy could barely make out Dessie anymore, what with the tears streaming from his eyes. At that moment, Jimmy's mind began to race, trying to figure out how he'd ended up here, of all places. Unfortunately, Jimmy's thoughts were brought back to the here and now once he felt the cool metal pressed against the back of his head, followed by Dessie's voice. "I'm sure you're familiar with this position."

Fortunately for Jimmy, he never felt a thing once Dessie fired off two shots to the back of his head. Some people might call him lucky for that. Then again, some people might not.

* * *

**Las Vegas, some time later**

Grissom tossed the file folder back onto his desk before adjusting the glasses on his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as though doing so would automatically relieve him of the pain currently coursing through the right side of his head. No luck apparently. Sighing softly, Grissom reached his hand out for the next folder. However, he never completed his task upon hearing the voice coming from the entrance to his office.

"Still got the weight of the world on your shoulders, I see."

The voice sounded familiar yet not all at the same time. Grissom's mind registered the voice as familiar, but for some particular reason he couldn't place the face with the voice, almost as though he was on the phone with said person but couldn't immediately recognize them because of the slight variation in tone. Fortunately, the problem was rectified once Grissom brought his gaze toward the entrance, seeing the elderly yet robust man standing there. "Tom?"

The old man chuckled softly, entering the more cluttered than usual office, taking a seat opposite Grissom. "How are you? Been a while since we last talked."

Grissom nodded slightly, still confused and oddly pleased at the unannounced visit. "Since Natalie. I've been meaning to come back out to see her but…"

"None of that, Gil." The man waved the comment off, pausing for a moment to take in Grissom. He looked a bit ragged, the beard seemed thicker than the last time he'd seen it, and he looked a bit heavier than last. But, other than that, it was the same Grissom. "I know you're busy. Can't be an easy task, speaking for those that can't speak."

"I try not to think about it."

"Liar." Grissom smirked, nodding his head at being caught. "You were always meticulous, even when you were knee high."

"So, what do I owe this visit, Tom? It's not like Los Angeles is a stone's throw away, after all."

"Always could read me, couldn't you?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow slightly as he continued to examine the man sitting in front of him. "Likewise. So, what do you need?"

The old man reached into his shirt pocket, retrieving a small manila envelope. He held it in the air for a second before placing it on Grissom's desk, sliding it to him with his forefinger. "I would have asked one of my contacts in the Bureau, but I'd like this to be taken care of as quietly as possible." Grissom picked the envelope up from the desk, holding it up between the two of them, a quizzical look on his face. "There's a print in there that I need identified."

Grissom shook his head slightly, still trying to comprehend what exactly was going on. "I don't understand. What's this about?"

"Call it one last mission, if you will."

Grissom nodded slightly, not entirely following but still smiling at the old man across from him. "Um, okay. Well, let me just get this to the lab and…" Grissom was partly up from his chair when the old man waved his hand at him once more.

"No rush, Gil. It'll keep. How about you tell me what's been going on with you since last we saw each other? That is, if you've got the time."

"For you? Always." Both men shared a friendly smile, Grissom returning to his seat. "So, anything in particular you want to know about?"

"Your life, son. Just start wherever and I'll figure it out from there."

Grissom smirked at the old man, about to begin. However, the voice from the doorway interrupted him, both men looking in that direction. "Goodnight, Gris…oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had…"

Grissom quickly interrupted Sara, the stranger still taking in Sara's features. "It's okay, really. Goodnight." Grissom was about to begin once more, but upon seeing the man's expression, Grissom knew what had to be done. "Uh, Tom. This is Sara Sidle."

Sara wasn't exactly sure what was happening. Initially, she had planned to pop her head into Grissom's office before taking off for the night. But, now, that plan seemed moot as she extended her hand to the guest sitting in Grissom's office. "Hello."

"Sara, this is Tom Cassidy, a friend of the family."

Cassidy vigorously shook Sara's hand, a grin on his face as he began to pull her into the office. "Pleasure. Please, sit down. Gil and I were just catching up."

"Oh, I couldn't intrude…"

Cassidy pulled the other chair out for Sara, carefully guiding her to it. "Nonsense. Any friend of Gil's a friend of mine. Besides, I'm sure you'd like to hear about what our boy Gil was like as a wee tyke."

Sara didn't mean to beam as much as she did, but Cassidy had gone from stranger to friendly in less than sixty seconds. "Really? You knew Grissom when he was a kid?" She could almost hear Grissom groan from across the desk.

"Oh, yes. This one and I go way back." Cassidy turned to Grissom, a wry smirk on his lips as he continued. "Isn't that right, son?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair, his head tilting slightly backward against the headrest as he spoke. "Unfortunately." Grissom quickly turned his gaze from the ceiling toward Sara, an almost pleading look in his eyes. "You really don't have to stay. I'm sure you had other plans tonight, yes?"

Sara didn't realize she was practically grinning at Grissom as she spoke, a hint of cheeriness in her tone. "Actually, I didn't."

Grissom caught the subtle wink Sara threw his way, this time groaning to the point of it being audible. "Of course you didn't."

Cassidy chuckled heartily before returning to his seat, looking toward Sara as he did so. "Well, young lady. You better get comfortable, because I'm about to undoubtedly turn Gil a few shades red after I'm done here."

Sara absentmindedly pulled her legs underneath her, leaning toward Cassidy in almost childlike awe, awaiting the stories that were about to unfold. Grissom, on the other hand, rested his head against the palm of his hand, leaning against it and waiting for the inevitable.

* * *

Sara stared at Grissom in near awe, Cassidy's words still resonating in her head. "You didn't?" Grissom nodded, his head still resting in the palm of his hand, beginning to wonder if he'd moved since Cassidy started. Grissom looked over to Cassidy to see him smiling at the reminisced memory.

"He sure did. There's something you've got to know about Gil. Doesn't matter how bad the odds looks, he's not gonna back down. Sure, they were older than him and Sean, and they were sizably larger in both height and girth, but didn't mean much to Grissom. Once he saw my nephew getting bullied like that, he couldn't not step in."

"Well, you could have come outside and broken it up."

Cassidy shook his head slightly, Sara still listening intently. "Aw, I knew you'd take care of it. Besides, if I left the bar, the fellas woulda drained the taps clean by the time I got back inside."

This was a side of Grissom she'd never even contemplated, Sara smiling at Grissom as she spoke. "So, did you even think about what you were doing? Or, were you just looking for a fight?"

Grissom twisted his mouth slightly before answering Sara's question. "I don't believe in violence. I also don't believe in standing by and not doing something when someone needs help…"

"So, you threw your backpack at the kid's head?"

"Not so much throw as swing."

Cassidy chuckled at the memory. "Swung for the damn fence. The other two took off once they saw their buddy lying there on the sidewalk with stars in his eyes."

Grissom frowned. "I didn't mean to hit him that hard. It was just…he was hurting Sean…"

Cassidy cut off Grissom, turning to Sara. "See what I mean? Always looking out for the little guy, this one."

Sara nodded agreement as she looked over to Grissom. "I know what you mean."

Grissom held Sara's gaze for a moment longer than he should, Cassidy catching the subtle gesture. "So, how long have you two been together?"

Both CSIs turned to Cassidy, both noticing the subtle grin on his face as he looked on in genuine interest. Sara spoke first. "You mean as coworkers?" Cassidy slowly shook his head, the grin still evident.

Noticing that Sara could use the hand, Grissom interjected. "Sara and I have known each other since San Francisco, actually. And we've been good friends ever since."

Sara quickly followed Grissom's lead. "That's…that's right. Friends."

Cassidy looked over Grissom and Sara for a moment, raising an eyebrow before speaking. "Okay, then. Gil, could you point me to the boys' room?"

Grissom got up slightly from his chair, pointing as he instructed Cassidy. "Um, sure. It's just down this hall and off to the left." Cassidy nodded, giving both criminalists a quick once over, before rising from his chair and exiting the office. Grissom quickly spoke once he was certain Cassidy was out of earshot. "I'm sorry about that, Sara. I'm really sorry about…"

"It's okay, really. He's a sweet guy." Sara looked down to her lap for a second before turning her attention to Grissom once more. "So, you two are pretty close, huh?"

There was no hesitation in Grissom's voice. "The man taught me how to ride my first bike. How to fish. How to tie my shoes. Even taught me about the birds and the bees because my mom was too shy to even contemplate broaching the subject with me."

"That's what I thought." Grissom raised a quizzical eyebrow at Sara, Sara clarifying. "I could see it in his eyes while he kept on talking about you. I'm sitting here, and I'm thinking, my God. No father ever loved his son more."

Grissom's brow furrowed as he turned away from Sara, looking down at the cluttered desk between them as he gathered his thoughts. After a moment of silence, Grissom broke the silence. "Sara…Tom's not…"

"I know." Sara's voice became somber, tender, as she replied. "You told me about your dad. Well, as much as you felt comfortable with. About him being absent when you were growing up. But, maybe a father's someone you find and not necessarily flesh and blood." Grissom opened his mouth, about to respond, but Sara interrupted, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Look, maybe I'm not the best judge. After all, you're not the only one with daddy issues here. But…I'd like to think that's how it works, you know?"

Grissom nodded agreement. "Sara…"

"Have you ever spoken to him about this?"

"Um…we really…I mean, it doesn't really work that way. I know this is going to sound strange coming from me. But, guys just don't do that."

"Guys don't…" Sara chuckled softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "Well, maybe you should. You know, just to make sure?"

Grissom leaned forward, his elbows now propped against the desk and his hands clasped in front of him. "Sara, you've got to understand, Tom's cut from the cloth of men being men. He's an ex-Marine, you know? As tough as they come."

"And emotionally stunted as well, I see." Sara didn't mean to sound condescending, but she just couldn't believe that Grissom, of all people, was saying these things. Fortunately for her, Grissom brushed off the acerbic comment as he continued.

"We've never talked about it because I guess, in the back of our minds, we both just…know. It's a…"

"I know, a guy thing." Sara frowned slightly, her gaze falling onto Grissom's. "I hope you're right."

"Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Grissom and Sara looked up to see Cassidy standing near the entrance to Grissom's office, a look of curiosity on his face. Grissom spoke, his voice hushed. "Um, no. We were just waiting for you to get back."

Cassidy returned to his seat, noticing the newly formed tension in the room. He'd have to remedy that. Turning to Sara, Cassidy smirked. "So, Miss. Would you like to hear about the time Gil blew up my stock room with his chemistry set?"

Grissom's hand quickly found it's way to the side of his face; his brow furrowed so much so that he could hold a penny in the wrinkled skin. Sara laughed at the thought of a young Grissom having an experiment get the better of him. "Yes, please. I'm sure Grissom won't mind, right?"

Grissom waved his hand at them in defeat, reclining back in his chair while he watched Cassidy begin to narrate the incident to Sara. Then, he smiled.

* * *

"Ever tell you about the time I was in Korea?" Grissom nodded, Sara curled up in her chair, still enamored by Cassidy's stories about Grissom and then, later, about himself. She'd never met a man like Cassidy, beginning to understand the man that Grissom eventually turned out to be with each story told. "Well, the war was well on its way by the time I got over there. We were attached to the 1st Marine Division at this time, and were north of Yudam-ni when we came under fire from the C.C.F. They were all that stood between us and Hungnam, and after just taking Seoul, we weren't gonna just lay down and die. By damn if we did. So, we fought our way through sub-zero temperatures, never giving an inch to the enemy. We hadn't come this far just to turn back now."

Sara nodded, awe in her eyes as she spoke. "I couldn't even begin to imagine what that was like."

Cassidy chuckled gruffly. "You and me both, Miss Sidle."

"I've told you already, it's just Sara. You don't have to be formal with me."

"I apologize. Must be the gentleman in me." Sara squinted her eyes at Cassidy playfully, Cassidy getting the hint. "Sara."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Grissom interjected, the levity evident in his voice. "You have no idea. He still addresses my mother as Mrs. Grissom."

"You see, Sara? Wit and humor, this one."

Sara smirked, her gaze lingering a bit longer than it should have upon looking at Grissom. "Potent combination."

Cassidy cleared his throat, Grissom and Sara turning their attention back to the elder. "So, where was I?"

Grissom stumbled for a response, his gaze quickly darting from Sara back to his hands that currently lay clasped on the surface of his desk. Correction. On the surface of the files on the surface of his desk. "You were making your way to Hungnam."

"Ah, that's right. Hungnam." Cassidy's voice lowered, the tone of his voice different now. More grave than before as he continued. "We dug our heels in, slowly making our way through the opposition. Men fell on both sides. I mean, they just fell. Either from exposure or having a bullet rip the life out of them. But, somehow, we eventually made it through the barricade. One of the proudest moments the Corps ever recorded. Or so the books say."

Grissom didn't notice it at first, but something had changed in the atmosphere. His notion was all but verified once he saw Cassidy wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "Tom, we don't have to talk about…"

Cassidy shook his head slightly, a warm smile greeting Grissom. "It's okay. I want to tell you how this one ends."

"No offense, Tom. But, I've heard this story before."

"Not in its entirety, Gil." Grissom furrowed his brow, unsure of what Cassidy was trying to say. Cassidy, seeing the confusion evident on Grissom's face, continued his narrative. "The day before we made it to Hungnam, a small group of us were positioned in the frontline while the rest of the regiment recouped. Things were quiet that night. I mean, to the point you could hear the Koreans breathing on the other side of the entrenchment. So, there we were, not even twenty strong keeping an eye on the front when there's this sound, like a snake slithering through the grass. And, sure enough, right behind us we see movement in the bushes. First thought went through my head, the Koreans somehow got behind us. Maybe it was the fatigue or maybe it was the fact I couldn't feel my toes anymore. But, at that point, all I was thinking was, if something felt wrong, it probably was."

Cassidy was no longer looking at Grissom, instead looking past Grissom as he recollected the past. "I don't remember who fired the first shot, but I do remember squeezing that trigger for dear life until the clip was empty. Even then, I was still pulling on that trigger until I was sure whatever was in those bushes was good and dead. And that's when we saw it. Someone stumbled past the brush, full of holes that we put there. Only problem was, it wasn't the Koreans. Instead, we had a blue-on-blue. Regiment of British S.A.S. that was wrongly inserted. They were supposed to provide relief to Wonsan, but somehow they ended up being cut down by U.S. Marines instead. We counted twelve in all, riddled with five point five six."

"Tom…"

Cassidy chuckled softly, attempting to mask the pain, but Grissom knew better. "Proudest moment of the Corps, and the only thing I can remember is the fact I had a hand in killing twelve boys that ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The room remained in silence; Sara's head hanging slightly while Grissom continued to look at Cassidy, speechless at his testimonial. When the words finally came, Grissom spoke. "Why are you telling me this now?"

There was no rueful laughter this time. No friendly smiles. Instead, Cassidy simply looked at Grissom and said, "I just needed you to know. To know that we all make mistakes, no matter how well-intentioned our actions." Grissom's mouth began to move, but Cassidy spoke first, looking at his watch. "Is that the time? I'm sorry, Gil, but I've got to go. My flight leaves in an hour." Cassidy rose from his chair, a smile now on his face as he turned to Sara. "Pleasure to meet you, Sara."

Still reeling from Cassidy's acknowledgment, Sara was at a loss for words. Instead, she rose from her seat and simply hugged him. Cassidy enjoyed the embrace, hugging this friend of Grissom's back as he managed to speak.

"Do me a favor?"

Sara nodded against Cassidy's shoulder, all the while looking at Grissom with a somber face. "What's that?"

"Look after this idiot for me, will you? Would hate to think of anything bad happening to him. His mother would kill me if it did. Can you do that for an old dog?"

Sara chuckled upon hearing Cassidy's request. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

Cassidy slowly moved away from Sara, turning his attention to a now standing Grissom. "Well, I'll be seeing you."

Grissom walked out from behind his desk, searching for the right words to say at this moment. Apparently, Cassidy could see Grissom struggling, and decided to make things easier for both of them, extending his hand to Grissom. It took a moment before Grissom understood what Cassidy was doing, and finally took Cassidy's hand in his, shaking it firmly. Cassidy nodded at Grissom before releasing his hand and turning to walk out of the office. However, before Cassidy stepped out into the hallway, Grissom called out to Cassidy.

"Tom?"

Cassidy turned back to Grissom, a gentle smile on his face as he spoke. "Yeah?"

"I…" The words were right on the tip of his tongue. However, there was something holding him back. Something that just wouldn't let him say the words. So, Grissom did what he was most accustomed to at moments like this. He made the personal a little less personal. "I'll see you later. We'll go see Natalie."

Cassidy continued to smile, a slight nod to Grissom as he replied. "I'd like that."

Unfortunately for Grissom, he never got the chance to say what he really wanted to. Instead, he simply watched as Cassidy turned away and disappeared into a sea of white lab coats.

* * *

**Los Angeles, two weeks later**

Cassidy had owned the bar for almost twenty years, so it was safe to say that he knew everyone that came through the doors of his establishment. Every bar's essentially the same, truth be told. After a while, only certain people, regulars if you will, tend to walk through those doors. So, when the two men walked into the bar as though they already belonged there, Cassidy knew that it was only a matter of time.

The blonde haired man pulled up a stool at the bar while the raven-haired individual walked in the direction of the dartboard, striking up a conversation with the individual that was already occupied with it. Cassidy didn't pay him much mind, instead focusing on the man now sitting at the bar.

"Drink?"

"Give us a Guinness."

Cassidy obliged, pouring the malted drink into a glass before placing it on a coaster for the stranger. "And your friend?"

"Tosser wants a drink, he'll ask." The stranger took a small sip from the glass, indicating his approval by then taking another larger mouthful before placing the glass back on the bar. "So, you own this bar then?" Cassidy nodded, his attention now on cleaning the glass in his hand. "Downright respectable. Especially since you don't water down the horsepiss. That's how I can usually tell a good bar from a bad one. By how much water's actually in the glass."

"No need for the pretense, Eddie. Or you still going by Dessie McGeehan these days?"

Most individuals would have been surprised at this turn of events, but not Eddie Page. After all, he'd just spent two years of his life pretending to be someone else for the sole purpose of killing them. Instead, Page simply took another sip of Guinness before proceeding. "Guess it doesn't matter at this point. You know why I'm here?"

"Got a pretty good idea."

"So, you gonna run, Sergeant?"

Cassidy smirked at Page as he began to clean another glass. "A bit old for that, wouldn't you say?"

"Point." Page lifted the glass to his lips, finishing the remnants within before speaking, slamming the glass down onto the coaster with eerie precision. "You know we have to do this, yeah?"

"Kinda surprised it took you fellas this long, actually."

Page nodded, looking at no one in particular. "You and me both. But, here we are, Tom."

"Here we are." Cassidy placed the glass under the counter, turning his attention to Page once more. "Another?"

Page shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. "I'm good. So, you ready to go?"

"If it's not an inconvenience, you mind if we wait 'til closing time? You know, as a last request of sorts?"

Page nodded, the smile beginning to widen. "Oh, hell. Why not? And how 'bout another pint, seeing as how we're gonna be here a while longer?" Cassidy poured another Guinness for Page, Page nodding his appreciation to the gesture.

"Oh, and one more thing, if you don't mind?"

This time, Page's voice was filled with surprise at the casualness the conversation had suddenly taken, raising the glass to his lips. "Didn't know better, I'd say you're taking advantage of my generosity."

Cassidy chuckled softly, pouring himself a drink as he explained himself. "Promise, it'll be an easy one." Page contemplated the weathered ex-Marine across from him before finally yielding.

"Alright. Let's hear it then."

Cassidy remained quiet for a moment, Page beginning to think that this wouldn't be as easy as it first seemed. Maybe he was going to run. Maybe he had a sawed off under the counter and was reaching. Fortunately for Captain Page, he realized that his worries were for naught upon seeing the grin on Cassidy's face as he spoke, his voice calm and composed.

"Shoot straight, you bastards."

Page smirked at Cassidy, holding his glass up to him. "Done."

Cassidy returned the gesture, holding up his glass to Page. Then, the two men shared a drink in silence, both knowing what had to be done and both hating the fact that it had to go down this way. After all, they were merely soldiers following orders. Because that's what soldiers did when it came down right to it.

Follow orders. To the bitter end.

* * *

**Los Angeles, some time later**

Most of the faces at the funeral were foreign to Grissom. It didn't really matter at this point. He was there to pay his respects to Cassidy. According to the police report, Cassidy had taken two rounds to the back of the head, no evidence of a struggle at the scene. While the local authorities were labeling the homicide as gang related, Grissom knew better.

He knew what had really happened once his mother told him about Cassidy's death. It explained the unidentifiable print. It explained Cassidy's story about Hungnam. Grissom had heard enough of Cassidy's war stories to know what had really happened in that alleyway that fateful night.

Cassidy knew. That's why he'd come to visit him in Vegas. To say goodbye.

Grissom began to curse himself, thinking back at his last words to Cassidy, knowing they weren't nearly enough. He could feel the tears beginning to form, Grissom squeezing his eyes close to prevent anyone from seeing him in this state of vulnerability.

Unfortunately, someone had already noticed. Grissom knew this upon feeling the small hand tenderly squeezing his, Grissom ultimately squeezing back. Leave it to Sara to notice him being human, he thought to himself.

At the end of the service, the people in attendance began to scatter in different directions. Grissom turned to his mother, who indicated that she was going to talk to Cassidy's nephew, Grissom nodding. As his mother mingled through the crowd, he turned to Sara, who was still holding his hand.

"You didn't have to come."

"I know. I just wanted to pay my respects. That, and make sure you're okay."

Grissom managed a weak smile. "I'll be okay. Really." Sara looked at him for a moment, not entirely believing him, Grissom eventually assuaging her fears. "Really."

Sara smiled back at him, her thumb gently stroking his palm. "Okay."

They stared at each other for a moment before Grissom turned toward his mother. "Sara, could you…"

As though she read his mind, Sara gave Grissom's hand one final squeeze before releasing. "I'll make sure she's okay. Besides, gives me a chance to tell her about her little boy's Vegas exploits." Grissom feebly laughed, nodding at her. "Take your time. We'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, Sara."

Sara smiled at Grissom once more before making her way into the crowd to find Grissom's mother. Once Sara disappeared from his sight, Grissom walked toward the casket that was beginning to be lowered into the earth. As he stood there, watching the casket disappear, Grissom read the words engraved on the headstone, his mind taking him to another time. To another place.

* * *

**Epilogue**

One day, Tom and I were visiting Natalie's grave, and Tom must have read the inscription on Natalie's headstone, because he told me what he wanted on his headstone when the time came. I just stood there and kept my mouth shut while he started talking about Natalie. However, I wasn't really paying attention. Instead, I just kept thinking about the words that he wanted people to remember him by.

Not a chance in hell, I thought to myself.

You're not any kind of dog.

**THOMAS WILLIAM CASSIDY **

**1933-2005 **

**BELOVED FATHER**

_Fin_


End file.
